


two night stand

by angryjane



Series: one night stand au [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Autistic Simon Snow, Coffee Shops, Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jealous Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Simon Snow, POV Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Friendship, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryjane/pseuds/angryjane
Summary: comes after "one night stand" obviouslylook. i know wayward son came out yesterday. i know. but i'm not able to read it yet, so i wanted to squeeze this out first. sorry. anyway, this isn;t all that good; i wrote it in half an hour.ALSO??? simon snow is autistic. die mad about it.





	two night stand

**Author's Note:**

> comes after "one night stand" obviously
> 
> look. i know wayward son came out yesterday. i know. but i'm not able to read it yet, so i wanted to squeeze this out first. sorry. anyway, this isn;t all that good; i wrote it in half an hour. 
> 
> ALSO??? simon snow is autistic. die mad about it.

Baz has been acting weird lately. We’ve been dating for a month now, and I’ve never seen him this way- agitated, jumpy, closed-in.

It’s been a good month, for the record. That first morning, I’d taken him to be an arsehole and a prick-- a downright bloody gorgeous one at that-- but he’s been attentive and caring in a laid-back, behind the scenes sort of way. Bringing me scones in between uni classes, letting me fall asleep in his lap after a particularly long shift, holding my hand under the table when we go out for lunch. I find myself sleeping at his place more than at my own, and Penny says I’m happier like this.

She’s only met Baz a few times, the first when he came by the shop to bring me a hoodie-- his, smelling like posh soap and bergamot cologne-- on a particularly windy day. His hair had been blown back off his face by the wind and his eyes glinted when he spotted me behind the counter; “That dude’s looking at you weird, Si. The one who just walked in.”

I’d told her I knew, that that was Baz, and she’d looked a little impressed. I resent that.

They’d gotten along swimmingly, and if I didn’t know Baz was strictly gay, I’d of been a little nervous. But as it was, they got along and that was all that mattered: my two favorite people weren’t at odds, so all was at peace. I don’t know when Baz became my favorite person; I think it was the morning I woke up to find him beside me in bed.

But lately--his arms wrap around me tighter, his eyes follow me almost predatorily, his mouth pushes more insistently against my lips and skin.

“Baz, what’s wrong?” I’d asked him before, but he’d only pushed my hips harder into the mattress and I’d dropped it, opting to gasp at him instead.  
I think it started two weeks or so ago. I can’t figure out what changed.

“If you stir that anymore, Si, you’re going to destroy it. Put it down.” Penny is behind me with a lid, pushing my hand away to cap off the iced caramel mach I’ve been obliterating.

She turns to hand it to the customer, taking another order on her way back to me.

“Venti blueberry white mocha, no whip. What is wrong with you today, Simon? You’re slower than usual.”

I reach for the cups. “Iced? There’s nothing wrong, Pen. I’m just tired.”

“Hot.” I change directions, grabbing at the paper cup harshly, the stack tumbling down. “Simon, you’re obviously bothered by something. You can’t hide this shit from me. Is it Baz?”

I pump the white chocolate too quickly and it spatters my apron. I ignore it and start on teh milk, yanking the steam wand towards me harder than necessary. “No.” It comes out guiltily though, and Penny know me too well by now:

“What did he do? Do you want me to kill him?”

“No, Penny.”

“Maim him, then?” She takes the cup from my hand and pours the shots in, passing it back so I can fill it with steamed milk. I miss the cup; it sloshes over the rim and down my front. “Shit. Simon, give me that. Why don’t you go sit in back, cool off?”

I huff, but throw my apron aside and shuffle towards the back anyway.

“And why don’t you organize the shelves back there while you’re at it!” She calls after me, and then I hear her customer service voice, all sweet and un-Penny-like as I close the door.

A pen finds its way into my hand somehow and then I’m doodling, little cartoons of Penny’s frustrated face and Baz’s hands full of scones and flowers. In my drawings he looks meaner than he does in real life. I can hear Penny and our new coworker, Agatha, on the other side of the wall, the steady beep of the register and the hiss and whirr of the machines. It’s calming, and i can feel the buzzing in my skin start to dissipate.

“What the hell is going on with you, Simon?” The morning rush is over by now, and Penny takes a seat on the crate stack opposite me to glare concernedly into my angry face-“What did he do?”

“He… he didn’t do anything, Pen. He’s just acting weird and closed-off.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! And so I can’t fix it!”

“Did you try asking him, Simon? I hear that helps.”

“I tried Penny… once. He didn’t answer me.”

“How was your timing? We’ve talked about this Simon, did you follow what I told you?”

I huff. “Yes… Wait, no.” Penny says it’s rude to try to have conversations during intimate times.

“Well, maybe that was it. Try again, but at a better time.”

“Like what?”

“You’re going to dinner with him tonight, right?” She’s doing the shelves for me; I don’t think she really thought I’d get it done.

“No, tomorrow. We’re just going to watch a movie tonight.”

“Perfect. Ask him then. Not while you’re making out, not while he’s holding hot things or doing something important, not while he’s in the bathroom or in the shower or on the phone.”

“Yes, I know, Penny.” I don’t have the best track record when it comes to important conversations. Still, I feel like a child when I get it all wrong.

“I know you do, SI.” She hands me the mop. “Now go clean up your mess.”

\--------

We’re huddled on the couch, my head tucked under his chin and his hands on my stomach, rubbing small circles against it. The movie isn’t any good, and we’re not really watching: it’s white noise, and I can hear Baz’s breathing in my ear.

“Baz, why are you being weird?”

I can feel his swallow against my skull. “I’m not.”

“You are,” I say, and it comes out accusatory; I backtrack. “You’re being really jumpy and broody. I want to know why so I can make it better. You know I’m not all that good at this stuff.”

“I know, love.” He sighs, and I turn my head a little to look up at him. I can see the bags under his eyes. “It’s just… It’s dumb.”

I scoff, sliding up a little in his lap. “Baz, you’ve never done, said, or thought anything dumb in your life.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.”

“No-” He scrubs a hand down his face. I can feel the spot where it had rested against my navel tingle in the cold. “Look, you know that new girl at the shop? Agatha?"

I blink. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not.”

“...Yeah, what about Agatha? She’s nice. Did she say something?”

“No, not exactly just… You get along very well with her.” I can tell he’s picking his words carefully. I don’t get it.

“So? Like I said, she’s nice. And she gets along well with Penny, and she smells like lavender.” It sounds weird when I say it, but it isn't. It’s just the facts.

Baz winces, like he’d been expecting me to say that. He doesn’t reply, so I plow on: “She told me my rocks were cool. And she’s really good at making that fancy latte art, I could never be that good.”

“You’re really good at it too, Snow.”

“Not as good as she is. She’s been teaching me, but I’m still not that great yet.” I’m facing him now, and he doesn’t look happy. “So what about her?”

He looks embarrassed, a little guilty. It’s a weird look on him. He’s usually so cool and collected.

“It’s stupid, I told you, but… I’m just worried.”

“Why.”

“You get along really well with her, in a different way than you get along with Penny or even me…”

Oh. I see.

“Not like that, Baz. I don’t see her like that. She’s like a sister, like Penny!” I hate how defensive it comes out, and I put my hands on either side of his cheeks to emphasize my point.

“I know that, Simon, but she looks at you like that. I’ve seen it.”

“She… no she doesn’t!”

The look he gives me makes me feel like an idiot and I don’t like it. “Yes, she really does. She looks at you like I look at you.” I know the way Baz looks at me, I like that. “Besides,” He goes on, “I heard her asking Penny last time I stopped by if you were single. I was literally right there. Penny told her no, of course, but still.”

“Oh… I didn’t realize.” We’re quiet a moment, my hands till on his ace and his on my back now.

“What do I do about it?”

He blinks at me. “There’s not really anything you can do, Snow.”

“You called me Simon before.”

“No, I most certainly did not.”

“Yes you did.” My head falls onto his cool chest, hands sliding down to his thighs to rest on the soft flesh there. “How do I fix it?”

“There’s nothing to fix, babe.”

“I still want to.” The itch grows in the back of my mind, a problem I can’t solve. “Maybe I should just ask Penny to murder her. She would, in a heartbeat.”

I can feel the laugh resonate in him before I hear it, loud and genuine. “That’s not necessary. But thanks for the offer.” I groan. “Really, Snow. It’s alright. Thank you for asking me about it though.”

I drag my face for his skin to look up at him. He’s peering fondly down at me over his nose, in that condescending way of his. Except it’s not condescending, just affectionate. And kinda hot. “You know,” I shift so my legs fall to either side of his thighs, knees landing between the cushions by his hips, “The weird stuff, the jealousy stuff, was kinda hot though.”

He quirks a perfect brow at me. I caught him grooming them in the bathroom last week; they don’t just come that way. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Noted.”

And then he’s kissing me, his hands grabbing at my trousers and mine fisting in his hair. I like him like this, all passionate and harsh.

I guess I can consider this problem solved.

**Author's Note:**

> have a nice day or whatever


End file.
